


His Own Personal Florence Nightingale

by pollitt



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is little Danny won't do for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Own Personal Florence Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Cat and Data for their read through and cheerleading.
> 
> Written in celebration of President's Day H5O Fandom Blowout!

There’s a statistic Steve heard in the SEALs that the average human male has about 20 square feet of skin. Of course the second part of that sentence was if you didn’t fuck up at least 19 of those--and use the remaining one for fucking--you should’ve picked a different profession. Like flower arranging.

And while he may have traded in black ops missions for the 5-O, that doesn’t mean that Steve hasn’t kept the spirit of that statement alive and done his damnedest to, in Danny’s words, break himself eight ways to Sunday _because while the Lord above may have taken a rest after seven, Steven, you have not and if you don’t, then I can’t and would you just_ sit. down. _and let me try to at least staunch some of your bleeding._

Steve listened, because he is a good soldier and knows when it’s best not to argue that your partner is being overly boy scout-like and that he’s had worse happen. He sat back down at the dining room table, holding the gauze to his bicep as Danny instructed and watched as Danny disappeared to the kitchen while muttering something about stock in Johnson & Johnson.

“You know, when we were at the campus, before you decided the best course of action for questioning a strung out chemistry major was to corner him in his lab where he could slice you with a broken beaker.” Danny started to say as he walked back to the dining room, a lunch-box sized first aid kit in hand.

“How were we supposed to know he was coming off a week of no sleep? His roommates failed to mention that,” Steve tried to counter, because it was true that they’d been working on an incomplete profile of their suspect.

“Please, let me finish.” Danny moved Steve’s hand and the gauze away from his arm and peered at the cut which had finally stopped bleeding. “So I was saying, I happened to notice on one of the bulletin boards a truly eye-bleedingly neon green flyer offering first aid classes at the community center. I have a sinking suspicion the class will most likely be attended by Justin Bieber-loving, braces-wearing teenage girls hoping to add a couple of dollars to their asking price for when they’re babysitting little Joey or Janet. But given the disturbing frequency that I have had to fix you--and most of the time it has required more than a bag of frozen peas, a Spongebob band-aid, and a kiss to make it better--I am going to bite the metaphorical bullet and advance my first aid knowledge.”

Danny straightened up and with a satisfied smile, said “There, done.” and handed Steve a frozen peppermint patty.

It was only after the cold candy was placed in Steve’s hand that Danny’s words really sunk in.

“You’re going to a first aid class? For me?”

“I am. For you,” Danny answered, biting into his own peppermint patty.

Danny didn’t say it--which was something new, since Danny wasn’t one to hold back on his thoughts and usually broadcast them in 1080p HD with subtitles--but Steve heard it all the same. He felt his skin prickle and a smile tug at his mouth.

“Thanks, Danno,” Steve said, reaching out and taking Danny’s hand.

Danny smiled and squeezed Steve's hand. "Anytime."


End file.
